Take Care
by Jet Wolf
Summary: Mako needs the pieces to fit.


**Standard disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine. This should come as no surprise. I am simply a teller of stories that occasionally claw their way desperately out of my head.

**Notes:** Written by request for someone on Tumblr who was having a difficult time this week. She asked for a bittersweet story of Mako on the anniversary of her parents' death. This is my effort to provide that.

_(17 January 2014)_

* * *

**Take Care**

It had to be perfect. Mako couldn't let anything escape her notice. Not today.

She swiped the cloth over her nightstand again. This was at least the third or fourth time she'd dusted (who cared about keeping count), but that was okay. It was unlikely that anyone would be coming back to her bedroom either, and that if they did they wouldn't care. That was okay too. Mako needed to know it was clean. If Mako knew, then they would know too.

And they needed to know.

Her friends liked to laugh about her devotion to keeping things clean and tidy. It was a compulsion, she knew. Rei barely let her in the kitchen anymore without supervision. Minako didn't even try to be subtle about inviting her over once a month or so and then sitting back while her room magically transformed from a pigsty to an acceptable human living space. Mako didn't mind (and Minako always bought lunch after), because that was part of how she took care of people.

More, it meant she was taking care of herself.

Today, more than any other day, she had to show that she could take care of herself.

For them.

Her internal clock was nudging her to check on dinner, so Mako dusted the frame of her futon one final time then considered her bedroom done (for now) (again).

Dinner couldn't possibly have burned yet (still two hours at 200, then it was time to start the sides), but still a knot of panic clenched itself into existence until her nose caught the delicious aromas wafting down the hall.

Good. That was good. To have ruined it …

Mako shook her head. She wouldn't ruin it, it was as simple as that.

Her eyes fell on the photograph hanging on the wall opposite the hallway. It greeted her as it always did, here in the heart of her apartment. It said hello every morning and wished her pleasant dreams every night. It saw her dash past as she was late for school and welcomed her home when lightning and bruises kept her out late.

As they so often did, Mako's fingers gently brushed the three smiling faces. Two ghosts, and one little girl who would forget how to smile for a while.

_we regret to inform you_

_poor visibility on approach_

_no survivors_

More ghosts. Mako had been expecting them. They visited less often, but never missed today.

Her fingers trailed off the edge of the frame as she entered her kitchen. It was huge, the apartment's selling point really, but it felt claustrophobic with just her and her whispering ghosts. Mako checked the beef, basted it, and tried to remember how to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Blink faster. She couldn't yet. Not yet. Not alone, not this year. They wouldn't have wanted that.

Neither did she.

The doorbell rang, and Mako nearly sobbed then and there with gratitude. She slid back the rack and closed the oven, then used the few steps to the front door to wipe her eyes with the heel of her hands.

She opened the door and immediately felt the embrace of Ami's kind, blue eyes. It drifted over her and through her, calm and soothing, and she felt the ghosts fade.

"I'm early," Ami said, and her smile was an apology.

Mako shook her head and grabbed Ami's hand. "You're right on time," she replied, and had never been more sincere.

Ami wanted to help, and while Mako had finished all possible preparation several times over, together they unnecessarily straightened the living room. Ami hovered near and followed Mako's lead. They didn't say much. It was so much better than the voices.

The doorbell rang again, and as Ami needlessly rotated a flowerpot a quarter-turn to the left, Mako answered it.

"Mako-chan!" Usagi wailed the very instant the door was open. She flung herself around Mako, enveloping her in a cloak of love and tears.

Mako felt her throat constrict and the inside of her nose prickle. She sniffed and swallowed hard and refused to yield, even as her voice cracked on Usagi's name. She couldn't cry yet, and so Usagi did it for her.

After a moment, Usagi pulled back to gaze up at Mako's face, though she almost certainly couldn't see it properly through her tears. "We love you, Mako-chan," she said, like it was the last true thing in the universe. "We love you_ so much_."

"I know," was what Mako meant to say. All she trusted herself to do was smile and nod. This was Usagi, though, and that was enough.

"What can I do?" Usagi asked.

What could she do. Oh, this girl. This girl who had done everything.

"Help me peel potatoes?"

Usagi's response was instantaneous and enthusiastic, and Ami giggled and followed them. Mako plucked the knife from Usagi's hands, gave it to Ami, and replaced it with a vegetable peeler. The same had been done to her more than once, in a kitchen much like this. The memory made her heart swell rather than shatter.

She didn't need potatoes peeled, but nobody needed to know that.

The doorbell rang again, three times rapidly, followed by incessant knocking. No question who had arrived, and Mako felt her lips curve in her happiest smile yet.

"Hiiiiii!" Minako called out as she bounded inside. "I hope nobody started the party without me!" She paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "What am I saying, I _am_ the party!"

"Minako-chan, I'm peeling potatoes!" Usagi called from the kitchen, like she was being nuzzled by a thousand kittens.

Minako gasped dramatically and put her hand over her heart. "Potatoes, Mako-chan?" Her voice dripped with the pain of betrayal. "Without me?"

The best defense Mako could muster was to roll her eyes, then she felt a hand on her arm. Minako was watching her intently, waiting.

Mako squeezed Minako's hand and smiled gratefully, granting permission. Laughing wouldn't come easily today, but with Minako there would be no shortage of opportunities to try. It surprised Mako to realize how much that meant.

Minako squeezed back and lingered for just a moment, then marched into the kitchen and gasped at all the naked potato indecency.

Sounds of laughter – sounds of _family_ – poured from the kitchen. Minako's leering, Ami's stuttered protests, Usagi's squeals. They filled Mako, rounding the edges where she was jagged and broken. She felt her jaw tremble, but fought to hold on.

Today, of all days, Mako needed to be complete, and there was still something missing.

She heard the clock in the kitchen begin to sound the hour, and a knock on the door immediately followed. Precisely on time, of course.

Mako opened the door for Rei and gestured her inside. Rei said nothing as Mako closed the door, simply watched with her intense eyes. The door clicked closed and then they were standing before each other. Mako was about to offer Rei a drink or a snack, anything to break the tension in this moment, when suddenly Rei's arms were around her.

It was a warm hug. It was a _familiar_ hug. Mako's gut twisted. Feelings of love and protection threatened to sweep her away, and she clung to Rei desperately.

"You don't have to," Mako said in a raspy voice that barely sounded familiar. "I know you don't like hugs."

Reii's answer was to hold Mako tighter. "I know you do." She pulled back just enough to catch Mako's eye, and Mako saw a reflection of her own tears swimming there. "I _know_."

With Rei's understanding – with Rei herself – the final piece clicked into place. Mako finally gave herself permission, and her grief bubbled through her and spilled out. She sucked in a ragged breath and nearly choked it out again as she folded into Rei's embrace. Her tears burned her eyes and her cheeks and her body began to tremble so badly she wasn't sure she would be able to stay on her feet.

She didn't need to try. They were all there, surrounding her, holding her. She wrapped one arm around Usagi and Rei, the other around Ami and Minako, and cried. She cried for the angry and lonely little girl who had been forced to grow up too soon. She cried for the young woman she had become, forced to wonder if she was making them proud because she could never know.

"Take care of yourself," had been her parents' final wish to her, as they left for a trip from which they'd never come home.

Sobbing into Usagi's shoulder, Mako knew she was doing just that.

Mako cried for the family she had lost, and clutched to her the family she had found.


End file.
